


Pale Rapture

by Naemae



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Age Differences, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Autistic Character, Culling, F/F, F/M, Grubs, Hemospectrum, Human Experimentation, Hunting, John's POV, Language Barrier, M/M, Mpreg, On the Run, Oviposition, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Apocalypse, Tough societies, Unplanned Pregnancy, Violence, cuteness, cuteness with grubs, karkat's pov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-30 01:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6401740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naemae/pseuds/Naemae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your eyes meet, and you are both frozen. His eyes look so white, void of any colour, and his brows are thick and black. His mouth hangs open as he nearly chokes for air, and you can catch a glimpse of a row of sharpened teeth. You gape at the sight. You've never seen a troll before, and you had hoped you never would. A few of the older people at camp talked about them, and your father used to tell you stories when you were a child about the viscous grey creatures that brought an end to global civilization in your great, great grandparents time, and would hunt and kill any human they would catch outside the safety of their camp.</p><p>You stare at the troll before you, and can't find your breath. He isn't moving either, he just looks at you with big, wide eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Your finger presses against the trigger of the crossbow as you steady your aim and look down the point of the bolt. Your breath shallows, and your target is in sight. The doe ahead grazes quietly in the overgrowth, and nuzzles the greenery without suspicion. She has no idea that you are watching her.

There is a small window for you to take her down. You have to wait, hold your breath, and be patient enough for her to move just one more step so you catch a side view of her chest. You want her death to be as quick and painless as possible. She gradually takes a few steps forward like you had anticipated, and she is in full view, only a hundred feet away, or so you estimated. You are ready to pull the trigger, when a spotted fawn emerges from behind the foliage to meet her.

You bring the crossbow down, and release your finger from the trigger. You can't bring yourself to harm either of them, for the sake of the baby deer. You sigh tightly so the air pushes out through your nose, and you can feel your head bob with it. You allow yourself to observe the peaceful scene for a minute or two before picking up a rock and throwing it. You have no intention of harming them with the rock, it just rattles off of a tree and frightens the pair off.

You couldn't have made that shot anyway.

Turning on your heel, you wave the crossbow around as if you're a toddler playing with an old doll; a rather heavy old doll. You hate the clunky thing. It is late in the afternoon, and you have to be back at camp before the sun sets. They won't accept anyone back after sundown, not without causing a "time wasting" examination, that for some reason beyond your understanding requires at least a dozen guards. They don't want to waste time or resources on someone that could be hostile, your friends keep telling you. You can't stay out much longer.

You don't want to be out in the wilderness alone, especially when the light starts to fade and the creatures of the night come out from their hideaways. You've been on hunting duty since sunrise with a handful of other people, who all split up to cover more ground. Jade is usually your hunting partner, but she's been in and out of the infirmary the past week, you still don't know why exactly, but you suspect Rose or Dave knows.

The heat of the sun radiates on your back as you navigate your way through a small clearing in the forest. You jump over a log and scan your surroundings. There are trees encircling the scar you've come across, there is nothing but green and brown. It's nice compared to home; you decided long ago that you love nature, compared to the horrid slabs of concrete and sheets of metal you've known for most of your life. The camp is only a few miles away, so it would probably take two hours maximum to make it back. But still; you feel like it's a hundred miles away. You've been on hunting duty twice a week for two months now, ever since your eighteenth birthday. It's different from your regular supply runs with Dave in the city; when you are hunting, you are alone and vulnerable. You have to constantly be on your guard, which you hate. At least Dave kept your mind off of the silence. Everything was so quiet away from camp, and despite how that made it easier to find deer or rabbits or whatever else, it also made _you_   easier to track.

You missed the checkpoint an hour ago, when you were supposed to meet up with the rest of the hunting party and head back home. You only managed to shoot a few bunnies, that you stuffed into your rough old backpack. You are twice as sad because of this; for one thing, they were cute little bunny rabbits, but also, without a decent hunt, your people will go hungry. You can't go back with only a couple of bunnies, not when you're feeding the entire camp; a band of nearly three hundred persons. Sure, there were farmers, but that could only stretch so far throughout camp; red meat was vital to keeping the population fed and healthy. English would double your workload if you appeared to be slacking, or worse, he could kick you out of the camp altogether.

You shudder as you reenter the shadowed thick of the forest. Around you birds chirp and sing, and you can hear the flutter of their wings as they go from tree to tree. You smile as you look up at them, happy that they're too small to waste a bolt on. You switch hands for the crossbow and flick your strained wrist when you hear something crashing through the bushes.

You freeze.

And look around with your eyes.

You can't move, not even to raise your weapon.

It's getting louder. It's heading in your direction. You feel the pain in your chest, the fear pulsing through your body. Everything is telling you to run, but you can't. You've never had to face danger on the outside before, not by yourself. If Dave were here, you would feel more courageous, and both of you would run. Jade would knock some sense into you, and Rose would try and calm you. You never thought about it much, but now, you think of how much you love your friends, and how much you miss your father.

You hear gunshots, three bullets, one after the other. You don't know who could have fired those shots, because the guns are not supposed to leave camp, by English's order. It's idiotic to use guns out here; too much noise. You turn your head to your left when you hear another two shots, and fall back as something sharp whizzes past your ear. You are dazed, and your heart is thrumming in your ears. You crawl backwards when a feminine scream rips through the trees, and you pull the crossbow to your chest with your free arm.

Your fears are realised when two of them appear from behind the trees where the shots came from. Their skin is as grey as the stories have made them out to be, and the horns on their heads only add to the fright you feel. One of them you can tell is female; she has every physical indication of femininity. She's limping, and holding her arm. A blue liquid dampens her clothing, which sticks to her. Her face is crumpled in pain, and her long black hair sticks across her nose and mouth. The other is male, you think. He looks smaller than the female, and his horns are tiny. There's the same blue fluid on him as there is the female, but he isn't gripping at any injuries. He looks at the female as she falls. He makes a noise, like a cross between a gasp and a shout, and another shot is fired. He jumps back until his back hits a tree, panting desperately as his chest rises and falls.

Your eyes meet, and you are both frozen. His eyes look so white, void of any colour, and his brows are thick and black. His mouth hangs open as he nearly chokes for air, and you can catch a glimpse of a row of sharpened teeth. You gape at the sight. You've never seen a troll before, and you had hoped you never would. A few of the older people at camp talked about them, and your father used to tell you stories when you were a child about the vicious grey creatures that brought an end to global civilization in your great, great grandparents time, and would hunt and kill any human they would catch outside the safety of their camp.

You stare at the troll before you, and can't find your breath. He isn't moving either, he just looks at you with big, wide eyes.

More noise comes from behind him; a familiar clattering of hooves against the soft grass. The male troll drops down and tries to make himself as small as possible, but never takes his eyes off of you. The overgrowth hides him in the shadows, and he would have been invisible if you hadn't already spotted him. You turn your gaze to the rider as he makes his way through the trees and into your line of sight. Stopping in front of the body of the female troll, the rider jumps from his horse and kicks her lazily. She yelps, and moves a little to try and shield herself. The rider looks up from her, and over at you. You recognise him immediately.

"Well, well, well."

You flinch away at his voice.

"You shouldn't be out here, should you?" You can practically hear the sly venom in his English accent. "Hunting party headed back home a while ago."

"I-" you stutter, and look back at the troll who is hiding amidst some fern at the foot of a tree. His teeth are clenched, and he is staring at you with the purest look of fear you had ever seen. "Caliborn," you say, and force yourself to chuckle, "shit, is it really that late...?"

He laughs, and takes something from the saddlebag on his horse. "Don't fuck with me, kid. We all have watches, and even a retarded imp can tell the time." There's rope in his hands when he turns to you. "But between you and me, unlike my father, I don't give a shit what you people get up to."

You swallow. "You call me kid, but we're like, the same age..."

"I'll rephrase so you understand," he reaches down and ties the troll girls hands together, and then moves onto her legs. "I don't give a shit. Period."

"Oh," you say, and look back at the troll who is still hiding. He is no longer staring at you, his darkened face tilts slightly in Caliborn's direction.

"There was another one," Caliborn says as he stands. "Where did it go?"

You swallow, and force a shrug. "I only seen her..." You nod at the female troll.

"Bullshit," he retaliates as he ties the end of his rope to his saddle. "I followed two of them here from this shack about two miles north. The other one didn't just disappear."

"Well, I didn't see it!" You insist, and catch sight of the troll again, who is staring back at you once more. You look back at Caliborn before he notices your attention is fixated elsewhere.

"Fuck. You. I don't even care, I have it's little friend here. That's good enough for me."

"What are you-" you try to ask as he mounts his horse.

"You'll see if you hurry back to camp, won't you?" Fuck, his voice is disgusting. He pulls the reins, and turns his horse as he takes his leave with a trot, while the girl is dragged over the dirt and grass with little more resistance than a weak cry.

You can't look anywhere else until you can no longer hear them. You listen to the sound of your heartbeat, and you breathe slowly. You train your gaze back to the troll still pinned to the root of the tree. He is glaring at you, and you can see his sharp snarl. He makes no move against you, but his demeanour sparks the memory of a wild dog you came across in the city with Dave. You blink, and gradually pick yourself up, and dust off your torn pants.

"... Um... Are you... Okay?" You stand rigid, and keep your crossbow to your side. You make no sudden moves. "I'm just here, not being a threat or anything..." You pray the troll doesn't attack you.

"## # # ### ## # ##!" His voice is raspy and bitter.

You raise your free hand and wave, hoping he understands you mean him no harm. "I don't really know what you just said... But, yeah... I'm not with that guy," you shake your head and point in the direction Caliborn left. "I... That girl... Was she your friend, or..." You hope your voice can calm him down.

He looks at you with a funny expression; his head tilts away a little behind a bush and his brows furrow over his dark face, "# ## # ## ###."

You hum, and hover there, before taking a step towards him. He doesn't seem as scary as you first thought him, or any troll to be. He sounds quieter than before, more wary than anything. Like a trapped animal; you've been hunting long enough to recognise the body language. You hope trolls are similar to other animals you've come across. You've never actually seen a troll before. When he peeks back out from the bush, you get a clearer view of his features. His hair is black, and looks rather scruffy, and his skin sure is grey. His yellow horns are clear to see, as you can observe his head from a higher angle, but they are tiny compared to the female's, and from what you've heard about trolls. He is pretty tiny in general. Maybe he is a child?... Maybe he is actually a girl, and you were mistaken.

"Hi," you say as you inch closer, unable to resist your curiosity.

The troll jumps up, and takes a defensive stance. You can see his fangs, and those are pretty damn impressive compared to his horns.

You stop, and hold back. "It's okay, little guy..." You are afraid again, but you can't help it. He isn't actually attacking you. You want to move closer and check this troll out, but you also don't want to get mauled. You point to yourself, and pull a half smile, "I'm John."

He growls, and glances away quickly before bringing his eyes back to you. His eyes really are white; clouded over where there should be colour. You stare, unblinking, and your mouth opens. "... I'm John..."

"# Jan...? Jon? ## # John # ### ##### ## ##!" He seems to spit at you.

You flinch away a little and drop your hand. You suddenly realise that he could be too cautious to make a run for it, in case you follow him like Caliborn had. "... If you wanna go, you can go... I won't stop you..."

He growls again in a low tone.

You sigh through your overbite, and look down at your crossbow. You can feel his eyes on you as you shake the heavy weapon lightly, and drop it. When you look back up at him, his expression sinks from aggression, even just a little. You shrug, and he stands straighter, less anxious. He's still small, but not as small as before, he might be less than foot smaller than you.

"#?" You can tell it's a question by the way his face contorts.

You smile weakly, and shrug again. "I dunno," you say, "I've never seen a troll before, and I... Don't really want to hurt you? I'm not a threat to you, and I... Really want you to feel the same way about me."

He frowns, and starts to walk around you.

You feel like you're in real shit when you notice he's circling you. You follow him round, unable to turn your back to him. "Hey... What are you doing..." Your voice shakes a little, but you try to hide it with a cough.

"###?... John?" He says roughly, quietly. His fists clench.

You nod, and bite your lip.

"######," he says as he continues to pace around you.

"... Uh, what?" You take a step back as he stops circling, and moves towards you.

He stops, and tucks his hands into the pockets of his worn grey hoodie. "# ## # # ### # # ## ### ## #### # # ###." You blink. "# # # ######."

You blink again.

He groans, and shows off his fangs as he speaks again, more slowly. "Karrktt."

"Huh? Car Kit?... Is that what you're saying?" You ask.

A low gust of air passes out of his short nose. "... Joooohn... Kaarkaat."

You nod with a smile, "ohhhhhhh... Your name is Karkat! I'm John," you point at yourself, and then him, "and you're Karkat!"

He stares at you, but doesn't disagree, so you assume you're right.

"Karkat, Karkat, Karkat," you utter. You are talking to a freaking troll. And it has just sunk in.

"## #."

You purse your lips and tilt your head. "Well, what else can I say that you'll actually understand? You're speaking complete jibberish to me."

"## # ## # ## # #...?" He doesn't sound pleased.

You look to your left, then to your right, and then at your feet. "Why aren't you attacking me? I mean, I'm happy you aren't, but, we're supposed to be enemies or something."

He just stares at you blankly.

You bite your lip again, "you're probably thinking the same thing, I guess. I've never seen a troll before, and my first instinct isn't kill, you look kinda scary, but- oh, is it the same for you? Other than Caliborn, I must be the first human you've seen, huh?"

"# ## # # # ##, #####."

You cough a short laugh into your fist, "I could just be the first that's not tried to attack you... And I won't," you shake your hands, "hopefully... _You_  aren't gonna kill _me_...?"

He looks frustrated, and his thick brow raises, along with one side of his upper lip, which reveals a decent sized incisor or two. "## # ### ##?"

"Karkat," you nod, and scratch your arm.

His head lowers, and he grumbles, "#, #####."

You tilt your head and breathe a long hum, "are you okay?"

He doesn't answer you.

"Uhh... _Okay_? Or. _.. Hurt_?" You exaggerate a toothy smile, " _okay_ ," and you flip the smile and pinch your arm "ouch! _Hurt_? Karkat?"

You studies you, unamused, and bites the side of his lip.

" _Okay_ ," you smile a long moment, and then frown while you hold your arm as if you are injured, " _hurt_. Karkat?"

He waits at least a minute before replying, "o-okeh?"

You nod, and then shake your head, "not hurt?"

He shakes his head, which makes you smile, because you're actually communicating with a troll.

"Good," you nod, "I don't know about your friend, though.." You point you thumb behind you, "if there were anything I could do, I would, you know? But that guy's our leader's son, he'd kill me if I tried to stop him... I hate him, he's a big douche. His sister is nice though, everyone likes her. My friends are good people too, it sucks though, only people in charge are dicks. Dave is cool, he's my best friend, and Rose is-"

Karkat holds up his hand. His eyes are wide.

You snigger nervously. "Sorry..."

"Srreh?" His hand falls, and he appears to inch closer.

"It's sorry, like... Sorry I ate the last mushroom. Or, sorry I borrowed your shirt, or... Shit, sorry I lost your gun!"

You swear you see him smile, just for a second. "Soreh? ## ### ## # ### ######## ## # soreh, ## ### ## ## # ##, John? # ## # # ## ### # #### ## # ## # # ### ## ## ###### ##### ###### #### ## ### # #### hurt # okeh, ###? #### ## # ### ## #! ###! ## ## # ### ## ## ###### ##, # #?" He looks as if he expects you to say something in response.

You lick your lip and glances around.

"## #."

"Ha," you say.

"Ha, ###, ha."

"Hahaha ha ha ha, haha."

"## #..."

You genuinely laugh this time, and take a guess that he was telling you to quit it. "You're okay for a troll, Karkat."

He grumbles, and looks away.

"So you were in a shack?" You ask him. "Can you make your way back home? You seem nice, so I think you should be incognito for a while in case someone else finds you... Not many people are like me, who's stupid enough to start conversations with the creatures we've lived in fear of for generations."

He gives you an empty look, because he doesn't speak freaking English.

"Uh... Right..." You look around and lick at your lip. You have no real way of speaking, but you get an idea pretty quickly. You crouch down and paw at the dirt, and leave some impressions like a smiling face. "Okay, I think I've got this... Could you come here a sec?"

He's still staring at you like you're an idiot, so you motion for him to come over. He doesn't look convinced, so you raise your hands high to show you aren't hiding some weapon from him. There is a decent sized knife in your backpack but you don't think of it as an issue. "I'm not trying to trick you, Karkat. C'mere," you motion again, and hesitantly, he comes closer.

You make sure to be as friendly as possible as he gets near you, and leans down to see what the hell you're doing. "### ##?" He glances down at the dirt, and back up at you.

You are perplexed by his eyes, and fascinated. Is he blind? He can't be... He's staring at you so surely. You quickly look down when he starts to get an impatient look about him, and you start to draw sideways so you both can see the image. You draw a house, and name it, "home" you tap the picture.

He looks at it, squints and looks back at you with the same face as before. Confusion.

You try again, " _home_."

"Homn?" He struggles to say.

"Ho-me," you say in a slower voice.

"Ho-m."

"Eh... Good enough. Now, watch." You tap the ground again, and draw out four shitty looking stick figures. You tap the first, and then point at yourself. "John, that's me."

He nods once and keeps his eyes on the picture.

You tap out the other three individuals and identify each one after the other. "This is Dave, Dave."

He makes a small sound that nearly sounds like a growl, but you couldn't feel any fear or worry, despite it. "Def."

"Yeah, he's my best buddy," you move onto the next figure in the dirt, "and this is Jade. She and Dave have been dating for years. Jade," you tap again.

He hums, and pulls his hands up, and you flinch just a bit. To your surprise, he is making a heart shape with his hands. "Def ## Jed # # # ### ###?"

You gasp and smile with your mouth wide open. "Yeah! Exactly!" You nod for good measure.

He drops his hands and nods, all with a thoughtful look of his face.

"Okay... Last is Rose. Rose," you tap the final figure.

"Roz," he repeats with little enthusiasm.

"Uhuh, that's right. Well, it's close enough," you move your hand above the entire picture; house and figures. "Home. John, Dave, Jade and Rose," you tap the house again, "home."

He frowns, but still nods. "# ## #, ##."

You set to wiping the four figures out, and drawing a new one with horns. You tap it, "you, Karkat, okay?"

He definitely growls unhappily this time.

"Home?" You ask.

He looks at you as if you grew a second head. "John... Hom?"

You slap your head and giggle just a little, "no, no... Not my home. Your home, Karkat." You draw a bubble around the figure to isolate him, and tap the figure and the house. "Karkat's home?"

He scowls this time and shakes his head.

"... You don't wanna tell me, huh? It's not like I'm gonna come over with an army and do some sweet ninja shit or whatever..." You smirk. "I just want to know if you'll make it back safe."

"# ## ## #..." He says in the calmest voice you've heard so far.

"Huh?" You lull your head to the side.

"Uhh..." He groans thoughtfully. "Hom..." He shakes his head, and goes to cross out he house you drew. He points at the stick figure of himself, "### #### ## ### ##."

"No home?" You fear to say.

"Karkat." He says simply, and brings his hands back.

You feel terrible. "Shit..." You say quietly, and look down at the dirt you drew on. "Then who was that girl you were with?"

He still doesn't understand, so you draw another figure and try to mimic the horns you seen on the girl; both curved up gently, while one horn had a half moon at the tip whereas the other had a hook. You point at her, and you see him wince.

"Sorry..." You say.

"# ### ## ##, # ## ##### #### ###." He shakes his head.

You draw a line between the drawing of the girl and him, and see a look of disgust. "So...?"

Karkat immediately rubs away the connecting line and crosses out the picture of the girl. It takes you a moment to process how little he feels for the girl, especially when he can guess her fate. You bite your lip and stare at the drawing, and wipe it all out into the meaningless dirt it once was. He is watching you when you take a glance over at him. You avert your gaze to the sky, but see no sun or clouds. The canopy of the forest darkens the area where you and the troll sit opposite. You suppose that's why he seems so relaxed (ish). You know that strong light burns their skin, and they avoid it. It's why you and your people go out of the camp when it's daylight.

"John," he brings you out of your thoughts with his frustrated and grainy tone. He is staring at you, likely wondering, as you still are, why you haven't left yet.

You give a half smile and lift yourself to your feet with a bounce that makes your new acquaintance fall back. "Welp. This was... Fun," you offer your hand down to him, but he just looks at it and swipes it away. Once he lifts himself, in a less enthusiastic way than you had risen. You reach into your backpack and stick out your tongue, "I have something for you, actually... Cause I'd feel like a real dick if I didn't do this."

He freezes as you pull out one of your dead bunnies and offer it to him. It flops there before the troll by it's long ears, very much dead. Karkat stares at it as if he has never seen a dead rabbit before, and then pokes at it's red stained tummy.

"## # ## ## ##?"

"Are you hungry?" You ask, and rub your belly.

He cocks a brow at you and grabs the rabbit by the neck.

"It's food...? A rabbit... Um..." Oh. "Do you even eat this?... _Can_ you eat this? Oh shit... I'm sorry if you can't, but I just assumed you would eat something like this 'cause you have sharp teeth and stuff, and you know, you look close to human..."

"### ##." He pulls the rabbit to his hip. "###... # ##..."

You smile widely, and your eyes close as you do so. He sounds humbler now, so you guess he is grateful to some degree, well, maybe not grateful, perhaps just surprisingly appreciative and no more. You would be too if a troll gave you a rabbit instead of a shiv in the neck.

You take this moment to check at your watch, the same watch everyone got when they went out. You groan as you see the worn little hands point at an unsavoury LATE; about twenty to seven. It was only five, the last you checked. You won't make it home before dark now, and you realise the horror of this. Maybe if you made a run for it? No, it's still too far and difficult to navigate without taking your time. You look up at your acquaintance with a frown, and shake your head to walk over to your crossbow. "This really sucks..." You reach down and grab the weighty object and test it in your grip. "Uh... I should probably mention that I'm not about to kill you?" You look around and see him reach behind him.

You look between his eyes and his arms, and turn when he pulls out a rather colourfully decorated sickle. You jump back and stand rigid. "Dude, dude!" You raise your free hand and wave it frantically. "I need to pick up my stupid crossbow, it's not even mine! This piece of crap is just awful and clunky and sucky. I'm shit with it to boot!"

He snarls, and his knuckles go white as he grips his sickle tighter.

You sigh heavily as you lift your chin high, and slump. "Come on! You're nice! I'm nice too, I don't go around shooting trolls, if I was gonna do anything, I would run away, okay?" You lower you gaze and frown at him, yet he remains undeterred. He wants you to drop your weapon, but you can't, you need to take it back with you. Today is going down in the books as the second worst day of your life. "Alright, fine, the stupid crossbow goes down," you practically throw it away from you, and fold your arms. "See?"

He stares at it, and then at you. You grow nervous as he appears to analyse you, before throwing the rabbit at you, which hits against your face. "## # ## ##."

You feel insulted as your rub at your face to get the dead rabbit filth off of your skin. There isn't anything on your face, but you feel obliged to wipe it anyway. Your eyes move onto the ground, where the rabbit lies motionless, black eyes staring away into the distance. You find yourself looking back up at Karkat, who eyes you suspiciously, sickle still in hand. "Look, Karkat. You aren't going to hurt me..." You really hope he isn't. "I won't hurt you, either... It's getting late, and I... I can't go home now... I've stayed out too long. My people won't let me back in if the sun goes down, they're terrified of anything that moves in the dark. Even if I shout, they'll just ignore me... We're not supposed to shout outside... Because of you guys. I know how bad it is, once some guy came home after dark and kept on calling out for us to open the gates. Nobody opened them, nobody even lit their torch to check who it was." You fingers twitch, so you scratch at your right palm to calm yourself. "Then we heard him scream, and that was the last thing we heard... Nobody even talked about it, the guy was dead anyway, or so they encourage us to believe. I can't go back... I don't want to die like that..." You plead with your eyes, and bite at your lip. "Just until dawn, I just need to avoid trouble until dawn..."

He squints at you, attempting to figure out what you must be saying. You realise he doesn't understand, but you need to speak, you can't not say what you want to say. He has to believe you, he has to feel some sort of sympathy or empathy. "##?"

"Karkat," you say as you begin to tug at your sleeve, "please, could I just, hang around you tonight? I feel like you're less likely to kill me than another of your kind..."

"Jon? ## # ### ## # ## ###?" He shakes his head away from you, and appears puzzled, and frustrated. "# ## ### ## # ## #### ## # ## ## ###. ## ##? # ## ### ## Jon!" He is glaring at you, and grinding his teeth with a growl.

Your lips tighten, and you keep looking down at the sickle he is still holding. You will him to put it away. "Karkat..."

He glances down at the weapon in his hand, and holds it up in front of him. "# ## ### ## # John." He speaks with a rasp and bitter tone, before the sickle goes behind his back, and you assume sheathed into some form of holster.

You nod, and try to smile, but you struggle with the gesture. "... Thank you, Karkat."

He continues to glare as his hands settle by his side.

"Okay..." You try to figure a way of asking him your previous question again. You can't survive outside camp overnight, not on your own. You could try, but you have no lamp, no torch. You are unprepared to survive without light, at the mercy of trolls who you know to be nocturnal and fierce. If you could get Karkat to stay with you, or show you somewhere safe to stay until morning, you may make it home to your friends. "Karkat? I need you to hear me out," you point at him, and then push your black hair back a little to point at your ear.

He nods with a growl.

You point up, "it's getting dark." Your hand falls, and you make a praying gesture while you tilt your head into the back of one of your palms, to indicate sleeping. "Night," you say, and return to normal. You point at yourself, "John," you say and point away, "home." You shake your head. You point up again, and speak as you continue to shake your head, "night, no home."

His head pulls back as he tries to understand, and his brows furrow as you can see the wheels turning in his head. He slowly nods. "John... #... Hom?" He shakes his head as he says the word home.

"Yeah, I think you get it... But, um," you lick your lip and point at him, and yourself, "John, and Karkat?" You use both of your hands to gesture two people walking, you lift one hand, "John," and then the other, "Karkat."

He snorts, and you know he understands, to some extent at least. He isn't too impressed with your proposal. "## ## # ### ## ## ##."

"No, no, no!" You wave both hand hands in front of you to try and make light of the situation the troll must be imagining. "Not forever, or anything. Just for tonight."

His arms fold, and he stares at you rather bitterly.

"Please, Karkat..." You persist, and lift a single finger, "one night."

You can see him nearly bite his bottom lip with those sharp teeth of his, and are surprised that they don't immediately break the skin. "# ## #### ## # ### ### ## # ## # ## ## ## ### #### ######## ##### # # ### ## ### ### ## ## # ### ## #### ### # # ## #### ## #### ## ## ## ### # ### ### ##!"

"..." You are blankly, and roll your eyes in an awkward fashion. "Uhh..."

"#," he points at you, and then back at himself, "#. Jon, Karkat, ##."

You stick out your tongue a little, to try and make him a little less difficult to communicate with.

His mood does not lift from grumpy, but fortunately, it is only grumpy.

Your tongue retreats back into your mouth, and you try to speak again, but the troll cuts you off by lifting his hand.

"Jon # ## # ## ### ## # ##," he says, but then sighs when he notices that you don't understand. He points off to your left, and when you follow, you see your crossbow lying there in the grass. He points at you, "## ## #."

Your brow perks, and you glances between Karkat, and the crossbow. Hesitantly, you move towards it. He doesn't seem hostile in retaliation to you moving closer to your weapon, but he does watch you intently. You reach down, pick it up with both hands, and stand back up.

He nods, and gestures with his head for you to come closer.

You stare at him, and frown, "uh..."

"John ## ##," he uses his hand this time to ask you to come closer.

You nod once, and take small steps towards him.

"## ## ## ### ## ###," he sounds impatient, and a little like he's mocking you, similar to Dave's self proclaimed ironic taunts.

"Heh heh..." You half smile, and make your way closer at a slightly quicker pace until you are stood a metre from him.

He inhales visibly, and looks you over, before turning and walking away.

"Hey," you call to him, and begin to walk after him.

He looks back at you for a moment, and then back ahead. His pace doesn't falter as he passes by a few trees.

"Ohh..." You say, and smile again. He is leading you through the forest. He doesn't mind your company. You think so, anyway, because you are walking by his side as quickly as you come to this realisation, and he gives you nothing more than a glance every now and again as the forest darkens around you, and the night looms over the two of you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (holy shit im sorry i havent updated this in forever, but its here now, yay, forgive me)
> 
> Karkat's POV

You walk a cautious pace as you enter into a new city. It is strangely cold for this time of year, so you carefully check through the windows of the old clothing stores in hopes of spotting a decent coat or jacket to combat the chill in the air. Unfortunately, your black turtleneck doesn't quite cut it. You recall having a large green cloak during the winter, but that - along with most of your possessions - was abandoned when you went on the run in the early spring after a couple of zealous highbloods caught wind of your deformity.

Your breath tints the glass as you take a peek into what appears to be a dark store that once sold overly extravagant and colourful bags, and things such as that. The only indication of its previous use was the silly looking handbag stained in the glass. The inside looks desolate; the shelves are bare and some are knocked over and yes, there is blood on the floor and walls in three different colours. You cringe as you take notice of rust, teal and purple. You are immediately rocked by a wave of discomfort, and pushed onward, down the broken sidewalk.

You hold yourself and glance up at the waxing crescent moon. You frown up at the smug bastard and force your eyes back down to the empty street ahead of you. There's pretty much nothing here, with the exception of a few old and rusted vehicles amongst the overgrowth that bursts through the splintering concrete. You are aware that there are others of your kind roaming around; every now and then you will see them in your travels. Indigos, olives, mustards, and even a sea dwelling violet a month ago. You avoid them. They avoid you. Simple.

Sometimes, you encounter one of those hornless freaks you share this world with. You will never admit it out loud, but they quite honestly scare the shit out of you. If it isn't your own kind wanting to drain the blood from your body, it's one of the hornless trying to shoot a hole through your skull. The only difference is your own kind will ignore you at first glance, whilst the hornless will aim and fire.

"## #!" You suddenly hear an exclamation. You stop and stare, and can tell the feminine voice is startled, and close. You recognize the language of the hornless creatures, and push yourself against the brickwork of the nearest building.

The hornless female continues to speak, but in a more relaxed and quiet tone. Your lips part in surprise when you hear your own tongue from someone male. The other voice is deep, and sounds lethargic as it stretches out a greeting that you can only just make out. You scowl as you hear a light giggle from the female. You know this means something fucked up is going on. One of your kind is having a conversation with one of those light haired, pink skinned abominations.

The notion is so terrifyingly ridiculous you almost laugh.

You creep down the street with your back pinned against the wall, curious about whether or not the sleep deprivation has finally gotten to you. You peek your head around the corner and look through the broken window of an old entertainment centre, where you can hear shuffling. Your eyes burn; you haven't blinked in a long time and your lids are stretched as far apart as they may go. It is indeed one of those hornless monsters, walking around freely after a pair of young trolls that scurry between the still intact aisles. And then one of your kind catches your eye. He stands tall, clad in the rainbow, with a large black mane and tall curved horns. He terrifies you enough to pull away and press your back against the cold concrete wall that is keeping you from their sight.

You clasp a hand over your chest and feel the pace of your blood pusher escalating into some disgustingly mutated cascade of blood and fear and shame and doubt. All you can think is how many seconds you have left to live, and how painful it will be before the end. But seeing one of those pink skinned _things_ prancing around with trolls not only scares you, but enrages you. It is waltzing around happily, not worrying for it's safety and acting all confident and shit, while you are here, wandering around without a fucking hive or anything while hiding from hornless freaks _and_ your own kind. _Fuck everyone!_

You feel a presence beside you, and glance to your right.

You jump away with a yelp. The older troll you seen in the store is peeking around at you with a pale, half lidded expression. His eyes are white and wary. He stares at you a while, before a wide smile stretches across his face, and colour fills out the irises from the tight slit they were previously in. Purple.

You grind your teeth and glance about. He may now appear nonthreatening with his eyes exposed, but you can't help but keep your guard up around a highblood.

"Hello there, little motherfucker," the words roll off of his tongue as he stretches his way around the corner to face you effortlessly. He sports a cerulean long-coat with green, tan and red patchwork stitched poorly over some visible tears. His purple pants make him look even taller than he clearly is. You suppress a short whine as you stare up at him.

"What?" You half hiss, half groan. Your hands clench by your sides.

"Whoa there, little guy. What is with all this..." He gestures to all of you with his hands. "Motherfuckin'... Aggression...?"

You cringe; he sounds a little out of it, and that makes you no less wary. "Y-you... You and one of those... things. And wrigglers? What the fuck is wrong with you?" You know you sound nervous through your growl.

He sighs a laugh and strokes his mane. "Ohhhhh... Dude. That's all, like this thing that I have going. This human thing has been hanging around me for a pretty long motherfucking time. She likes me, I think, because of my righteous humour."

"You actually fucking talk to it?!" You hear your voice screech.

He tilts his head, "oh yeah, little motherfucker. I talk to her. It's more like this whole bullshit exchange. I mean, fuck. Motherfucker. They all speak weird. Humans, I mean. I can make things out though, little wrigglers, too. We know things. They don't really speak right either. I guess they had it worse than me... Jane said it was... It's just this motherfucking... Aw... Shit. What do you call it again?" He looks at you as if you know the answer.

"I..." You take a step back, "don't know...?"

He blinks quickly and appears to study you for a few more moments. You hate being stared at. "You're not gonna wreck shit up, little brother. You see, I got this thing going. Moirallegiance, motherfucker! It's like a motherfucking miracle up in here. That _thing_ in there, is pretty motherfucking important to me. You so much as breathe on her, and I'll bash your motherfucking skull in like the others. Use all that blood to paint these walls a pretty sweet shade of... Uh," he looks you over with a thoughtful expression. "What is it, little brother? I'd peg you for one of those... Green bloods?"

"Uh." You mentally slap yourself for letting your voice crack. "Um, it's close to there, yeah."

"Oh," his smile stretches further and a large set of fangs slide from his maw. "This a secret?"

You don't quite know how to react to this. "I fail to notice how this is that much of a fucking issue!" Your voice raises to a higher pitch than usual.

"Ohhhh, I see how it is, brother," he lulls a nod and his smile fades just a little. "I'm just getting my chill on with this human, I'm not gonna bash your motherfucking skull in... As long as you're not a threat or something."

You look away quickly, avoiding his eyes. "I was, and still am, passing through. But then you scared the shit out of me! One of those... _Humans?_ Freakish hornless things, just... _There_! How the fuck am I supposed to react!? They only ever try to shoot at you or stab you or whatever! Trust me, it sucks really fucking bad! So you know what? Fuck it. This is officially the weirdest day of my shitty fucking life and I'm done. Nope. This troll isn't going to die today. I am out of here quicker than a stampeding hoofbeast that just caught wind of a nearby predator licking at it's own bulge."

He hums, and it sounds much like a ripple in his throat; something close to a growl. "I feel you, brother... But Jane is pretty motherfucking alright. Not the others, though, their blood is splattered in places too. Bastards. I wouldn't go looking for them, little brother. They'll motherfucking shoot at you. They try to, but they won't. Not anymore..."

Your brows furrow and you look up at him. Your lips part, ready to speak, but you don't get the chance.

"Wow, brother. You're eyes are like... What colour is _that_?" He leans closer to you and his purple stare magnifies.

You look away as you force the offensive colouring back into tight slits. "It's uh! Burgundy!"

"Ohhhhh. Motherfucking sweet, little brother. I haven't seen that colour in a long time. Began to think it was going extinct or some shit."

You look away, and bite your lip lightly. You make sure not to draw any blood. "I... I'm just passing by, you can just go back to doing whatever the fuck it was you were doing, and I'll be gone in no fucking time."

"... That's cool, brother. I won't stop you from moving on, or whatever. It's just another motherfuckin' day to me," he sounds like he honestly couldn't care less.

You hum, and nod, and look back up at him, "okay, this may sound like a bunch of psycho fucking babble bullshit. These things I'm doing with my mouth are a series of convoluted, misguided, and yes, somewhat painful, words. Now, here are these words; do you know if there's anywhere I could find something warmer to wear? I'm fucking freezing." You think he might help you. He's rather mellow for a highblood, which should worry you, but you could have a blood pusher attack if you allowed everything to bother you. Running is always a valid option.

"Uh, really? It's pretty motherfucking hot out, sun's higher in the sky this season," he inquires.

"I'm cold," you state, unsure of what else to say.

He chuckles, and points down the street, "there's this place down there a little and it has lots of random shit. You might find something there. It'd be a motherfucking miracle for you."

You follow his finger down the road, and nod. You don't care that you have no idea where he is pointing at. The faster you can get away from him, the better. "I owe you, I guess."

"It ain’t a motherfucking problem. She calls it a thankless favour or some shit. Whatever thanks even means... She tries explaining things and not all of it sticks, you know," he says as if it was a great thing he'd done for you. Which, it probably was, considering his frightening appearance. You feel his eyes follow you as you walk away down the sidewalk, and you rub your fingers nervously. You can't fight him, and you know it. He'd crush you. Relief spreads through your veins as you glance back to see him walk back into the store he was in previously. A miracle. A motherfucking miracle.

You walk for a while, and see some kind of random, useless items store. You have to force the door open, as there is a chair pushed up against it on the inside. It creaks against the dust until there is a small enough gap for you to squeeze through. You seen some jackets through the clouded windows, and hope to find something without too much trouble.

You have to cough a couple of times, as the musk of the thick air fills your mouth. It was dark, and dank. But surprisingly intact. Clothes hung on rails, and toys and ornaments filled the floor and shelves. You trace your fingers along some faded cardigans, and let it tickle your fingers. You grumble in frustration. You don't care for design, not at all. You want something warm and comfortable. You head to the back of the store where there appears to be attire designated for colder seasons. You hum as you scan through pinks and tans and greys in soft and hard and cringe worthy materials. You search until you find something relatively soft and smooth.

You pull out a grey hoodie and hold it up to analyse. There is a hole in one of the pockets, and there is a little layer of dusk over the shoulders, but when you shake it clean, you find no other abnormalities. "Well this looks pretty fucking okay, actually. .." You mutter to yourself as you unzip the front and put the hoodie on. It's a bit big, but you've gotten used to that sort of thing. It's only embarrassing that you have to look at wriggler sized clothes when someone is around to berate your small stature.

You immediately think of your old friend Kanaya and how she used to make clothes for you. You haven't seen her in sweeps. As much as it pains you, you are going back to see her again. You know she was going through a rough time with a mother-grub last time you seen her, and she appreciates your company. At least you think she does. She was sort of your moirail after all. Sort of. But you are still uncertain about seeing her again. You practically abandoned her, after everything she did for you growing up. She was one of the very few reasons you survived past your first wriggling day.

A pang of guilt rolls over you. Fuck, you must be pale or insane to feel like this.

You shake your head and groan at the door, before taking your leave.

...

You never really liked cities. You never really liked the wilderness either. You came to the realization that you have never been particularly appeased by any sort of habitat. It's always been too hot or too cold. Actually, no, literally speaking you are feeling a bit more comfortable after a few hours wearing an extra layer of clothing. You don't even have to hold yourself to retain heat any longer.

It's nearly daylight as you pass through a forest a couple of miles out of the city. You only have a few more kilometers before you find Kanaya's hive, but you doubt you can make it tonight.

You remember an old wooden hive that you spent time in when you left Kanaya, it isn't far away from your old flush-crush's hive, either. But, you hope you don't come across that crazy troll, at least not until you look a bit less helpless. She would never let you forget how weak you are, and have been for the longest time.

It is nearly dawn when you find the hive you are searching for. Light begins to seep through the trees, and you duck and dodge the rays. The hive is worn and covered in greenery. You cringe as you approach it, and turn the handle on the entrance, but it wont budge. After a series of combined efforts from pushing, grunting and kicking, you shoulder the damn door in. It is stiff as it opens, and the hinges pull at some vines that were growing.

You cough into your fist and look about the room. There are cobwebs everywhere, and you just know you can't avoid touching at least one. "Ugh... Fucking typical..." You moan as you close the door again.

You don't know where to begin with this hive's problems. You want to sit down and perhaps relax a bit before you head out again, but there is so much decay inside that you are unsure the furniture would hold your weight. There is only this single room, which contains a stone fireplace, a table and chairs, and a pair of beds. You remember everything but the neglect. It was once comfortable here.

There is nothing you can do, so you find a corner behind the curve of the entry and sit there with your chin on your knees. You permit your eyes to close after a time, and think of home, and Kanaya, and Terezi, and how good sleep once was. You feel it pulling at you, keeping your eyes shut and slowing your breath.

You don't even know if you are awake anymore.

...

A crashing sound wakes you.

Immediately, you are on your feet and pulling your scythe from your belt. Someone just smashed in the window to your left, and some of the glass has brushed about your shoes. You stare at the fractured shards and kick them lightly. Your sight finds the now open window as a rush of cool air floods the room. Someone is climbing through, and you can hear their laboured breathing. You raise your sickle to level with your chest.

One of your own kind pushes her way past the sharp frame of the window, and falls head first onto the flooring before you. She has long hair, and curved and hooked horns. She looks far better than you, despite the blue blood you see slowly spitting onto the floor beneath her.

She groans, and brings herself up slowly, before noticing you. She freezes as you make eye contact and her eyes widen. " _Karkat Vantas_? What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

You remember this bitch who goes by the name of Vriska Serket. The last time you seen her, she threatened you to stay away from her moirail because you are _useless_ , _disgusting_ and of course, _the_ _wrong_ _type_ _of_ _troll_ _to_ _be_ _expanding_ _his_ _quadrants_ , especially with _her_ moirail. You hate this cerulean blood, but not in a romantic way; that thought makes you want to vomit. You are sick to your guts of highbloods in general, particularly tonight.

"Go fuck yourself, Vriska. I am not even _remotely_ in the mood to put up with your narcissistic bullshit right now. I have just had the longest. Fucking. Journey. Of my life. And your face has just made my time away from home that much sweeter, I feel like ripping out my fucking teeth right now to avoid the roots rotting. That would be a billion times more pleasant than spending time with you. All of you highblooded shitstains can just fuck off, right now, find some nook to crawl up into, get comfortable, and never come back out of there. Perhaps then we can both live to see another shitty day."

She scoffs as she gives you a look that is supposed to make you feel small. "Awwwwwwww. You missed me that much, huh?" She gives a short laugh as she looks at your sickle. "Oh," she sounds like she has seen something somewhat cute, "Karkat, I'm not interested." Her eyes find yours again and you can't hold back a growl. She brings herself up to stand before you, without breaking away from your glare. "Nobody is interested. So quit trying so hard."

"I could not be any more indifferent regarding your petty existence," you spit at her. "What the fuck makes you think I would even consider black-flirting with a bulgemunching nookstain like you, ugh. The thought alone makes me want to crawl up my own waste chute to witness something, dear lord, anything, more pleasant than you."

You see her roll her eyes and lean over to her right side. You nearly forgot she broke in through the window moments ago. You make a puzzled face, "what the fuck even happened to you?"

"None of your business, you creepy little shit," she frowns, and glances at the window.

"You're bleeding all over the place," you stare at her side, where the blue liquid is oozing from steadily.

"This? Oh, it's nothing. Well, nothing I can't handle."

Your eyes widen when you realise something is very, very wrong. "Who attacked you?!"

She glares at you accusingly, "nobody attacked me! This is just a dumb scratch."

You know she is lying, but you don't know why. No way is Vriska incompetent enough to allow something simple to injure her. If something or someone attacked her, it meant she is in way over her head, and by association, you are too.

"Would you quit staring at me, jeeeeeeeez, are you seriously making the farfetched assumption that I'm your kismesis? Is someone else not allowed to put up a fight against me? Huh? Fuck, Karkat. I knew you were into the whole quandrants and romance and stuff. But I never would have guessed your issues ran this deep."

"Go eat a bulge, shitbreath. Now read my lips. I don't give a fuck about your stupid insults or moronic fantasies. Whatever is going on between us is not in any way 'romantic'. The possibility of such a thing would fill me with so much of a desire, no; _a need_ , to fuck off again, if there were any kind of possibility to begin with. Now listen further, unless there's something wrong with your thinkpan so you are unable to understand these simple fucking words. I know you were attacked. And there is no way it was a black-rom encounter. That wound you have there is near lethal, plus you wouldn't be able to keep a fucking kismesis because of your bullshit homicidal psychobitch internalised clusterfuck. On top of all that; you are hiding. You, the colossal bitch, the blue blooded nookwhiff, the supposedly unbeatable Mindfang. HIDING."

"You almost sound like Terezi now, god that's annoying." She flicks her long hair and looks down on you.

"Fuck you. This shit is serious." You briefly wonder what your old red-rom interest is doing right now. "I'm absconding the fuck out of this place before you drag me down into whatever hoofbeastshit you've surrounded yourself in."

Your hands reach for the door, when she speaks again. "And you wonder why she doesn't want you..."

You turn your head back to her with a silent snarl. "I fucking dare you to say that again."

She only laughs, and regards you with a mocking glance. "You're not good enough for her. You're a fucking mutant, for god's sake... Always running, always on your guard, always so fucking annooooooooying..."

This is not the first time you've wanted to cut her throat, or at the least, rip her tongue out. You do not have black feelings for her, you are certain of that. But you think you would enjoy watching her burn.

"Aw, there's that look again," she smirks, "the 'I'm so angry at the world, look at me!' look. Nobody will ever want to fill a quadrant with you, like, ever. Don't you realise that, Karkat? You shouldn't even exist! You'd be better off dead."

She is trying to provoke you. It is working; you're fuming. Your skin boils with a white-hot rage. But, deep down, you can't help but acknowledge that she's not wrong. You know you shouldn't exist; you're not right, not normal, not even on the hemospectrum. Your blood is not any shade of rust, nor of green, of blue, or purple. You don't belong amongst your people. Things would be better off if you weren't alive, your existence is so insignificant, you doubt even your death would mean much to the universe. "Fuck you," you spit as you turn, and yank the door open and stamp outside.

"Heeeeeeeey!" Her muffled voice calls after you, but you don't care to look back. "Come oooooooon, moron. Did I really hit you where it hurts?" She sounds louder, so she must have exited the hive after you. Why is she following you? "Hey! Don't ignore me!" She continues to yell in a tone you have never heard from her.

"Piss off, you spiteful bitch!" You snarl, turning your head sharply back to her. Your face is beginning to hurt after furrowing for so long. Your hand doesn't feel much better since your sickle hasn't been settled back onto your belt.

She stares at you, with an expression you can't seem to place. All you know is she is looking at you with a great deal of focus. It takes you a few moments to figure out that she isn't going to leave you alone. "I will do whatever the fuck I want, you got that? I exist. That's all there is to say on the fucking matter." You say with a tremble to your voice.

Her brow lifts at your words, and she looks you over with a queer silence. Her blue eyes follow your hand as you place your sickle back onto it's hook on your belt, and you turn once more to leave.

You hear a shot firing close to your location, and shout out in shock. You almost fall back at the bang, but steady yourself by holding your arms out. You quickly look about the forest surrounding you, yet see nothing of threat to you. You take to listening carefully for where this person with the firearm is lurking. Besides Vriska's cursing and hissing, and the sound of your own breath, you detect the bray of what could likely be a hoofbeast. Then, there was the shout of a rider urging the beast on, and another gunshot. The rider continues it's shouting; it's language foreign to your own, yet gravely familiar.

Your ears flick fearfully and your jaws clench. You haven't even the luxury of thinking too deeply into the situation you find yourself in. The only thing your mind can conjure are the words; _run_ and _fuck_.

Your legs take you opposite the direction you heard the danger. You run, as fast as your can without colliding with the obstructions of the forest. You approach a fallen tree, and jump over, using your hand as leverage, and fall to the ground. You couldn't anticipate the drop, and cough as you struggle past the adrenaline running through your cursed veins.

Vriska crashes next to you with a yell, and clutches her side. When your eyes meet, you sense she is seeking assistance. You have no intention of giving it to her, but by the look of her, you can tell she has less of a chance of surviving, logically speaking.

You are snapped back to your senses by a metallic click, and your eyes snap up to the fallen tree. There behind the tree, sits the rider you heard; pale, and bald, and hornless. He points a long gun at you and smirks, "# #."

He shoots, and the bullet strikes the outer side of Vriska's left arm. Her blue blood spatters onto you as she lets out a scream. You stare at the gape in her overshirt and the rapid pool of blood, and hear another stalling click. You can't move when Vriska looks back at you.

_Stay._

You twitch at the command, but can't seem to fight it.

She falters, and grips her arm tightly. She takes her eyes from you, and glares up at the rider as she slowly stands. You do not rise with her.

"If you think you can just kill me, you're soooooooo very wrong, you fucking freak of nature," she grunts bitterly at him.

You can't recall which you heard first after that; the shot ringing through the air or her command screaming in your mind. All you know is a jagged, fist-sized rock found it's way into your hand and it was launched at the rider. When you return to your senses, the hoofbeast was rearing wildly and appeared to have tossed it's rider. You burst to your feet and sprint away before things escalate any further.

Vriska follows you, and you want to trip her up, because the rider has mounted his steed once more and made it his goal to come after you. You would have made Vriska stumble, but you haven't the time or energy, nor the heart to do such a thing, in complete honesty. You hate Vriska, platonically, but you don't think you could actually bring about her demise. It wouldn't feel right.

You and her run for what feels like hours, and beyond your sweaty brow and soaked bangs, you notice the forest grow gradually darker. It isn't quite night yet, but it worries you that the human hasn't returned to it's people yet. You've never seen one out after dark.

A heat burns through you, scorching your skin, and darkening it with your red pulse. You breath desperately, and chance a glance back. The rider isn't sprinting, but it persists. The forest is too dense for his mount to come straight at you and Vriska, it must maneuver and jump, and stall. You don't know whether to thank the gods, or curse them. You have considered alloying someone to kill you before, to end your suffering. But, you don't want to die. Despite how terrible your life is, you like existing, sometimes. You like those simple, quiet nights, and those good old days with your friends, before everything went to shit and you had to go on the run. You like to hope that you can have those nearly peaceful times again.

You hear three gunshots as you notice the rider lagging behind further than ever. One of the shots whizzing past you, so you look back again and nearly stumble onto your knees after you jump. Vriska isn't as lucky, as a bullet grazes the side of her skull. She screams.

No, that isn't pity you feel welling in your chest.

You knew this would happen. You knew it. She stops, and looks ahead of her, avoiding you, it would seem. You stop, and look her over. She's done for, is all you can think as you try to gather your breath. She falls to her knees, and then to her side in defeat.

"Vriska!" You rasp out to her, but she doesn't answer you, or react at all to your voice.

Another shot fires, and you jump back against the closest tree, protected by the greenery surrounding it. You pant against the ferns and don't dare move. There is nothing you can do for Vriska, so you look away from what is certainly her final moments. As soon as you do this, your eyes lock with someone else. It sits there, with some sort of projectile weapon clutched against his chest. His skin wasn't particularly pale or pink, perhaps the colour of chopped wood. His hair was just as black as yours, and just as messy. You stare at the deep blue of his eyes, surrounded by a great deal of white. You mentally spit at the thought of another highblood, especially a human one.

The human looks away as your hear the clashing of hooves. Your legs give in, and as you fall back, you make a point to close yourself into a ball, as you did as a wiggler when you heard a feral purrbeast or barkbeast. You look towards the human on the ground, who is still staring at you. He has yet to attack, but you wait for him to get on with it. You feel your eyes sting as they well with tears. You refuse to cry.

The rider arrives;you can only hear it. It stops moving, and thuds into the dirt.

"## ## ##," it speaks like a hissbeast. "# ### # # ## ## #. ### ### ## ## # # ## ##."

"#-" the one sitting stutters, it's voice is more wary, smoother than the the other. He looks between you and the rider, slowly, and you bare your fangs at him. This is the end.

"######," it says to the rider, and makes a sound just short of a laugh. "#, # ## ## ## ##."

The other laughs more strongly, and moves around what you assume is Vriska's body.

The two of them proceed into a conversation; a series of sounds you don't understand. You wish you knew what they were saying, then you would at least know your fate. But they just keep making noises at one another, some high, some low, some longer than others. The one that saw you is yet to point you out; you look between them to check what each one is doing. The rider gives no indication that it knows where you are, he is busy tying rope around Vriska's ankles.

When the bald-headed one stands, and ties the rope to the saddle of his hoofbeast, you hear the blue eyed one talk. You look back at him, but can't see any aggression about his features. He meets your eyes again, if just for a moment, and you can't seem to breathe.

The rider doesn't come, nor does a shot, or the other hornless being. The rider gets back onto his beast, and leaves, with a barely breathing Vriska dragging behind.

You must be breathing, because you can no longer hear anything but your bloodpusher hammering away in your waving chest. You test the air, parting your lips slightly, and realise gradually that you are still alive.

A pair of blue eyes find their way back to you, and you snarl on instinct. You don't know why he didn't betray your location to the other one of it's kind. All you understand is that you cannot trust these creatures.

It stands, and shifts about itself in a queer manner, before addressing you. "##. ## #. ##. ## ### ##. ## ## # ### ## #####." There seems to be something off about the being before you; the way he stands, you think, or perhaps his low and careful tone. You note also that his weapon remains at his side. You are confused immensely by this entire scenario, and are greatly unsettled by that.

"Come any closer and I will cut your fucking hands off!" You make sure to put as much teeth into your words as possible, you want him to realise you are just as much of a threat to him as he is to you.

You flinch when he lifts his hand, but deflate when he uses it to wave at you in an unremarkable twist of his wrist. "# ## ### # ## # ## ##. ##. #. ## ## ## ## #." It shakes it's head and points in the direction you ran from. You think you understand as you glance between his face, his finger, and the puddle of blue on the ground. You regard him slowly; he is trying to tell you he isn't involved. "#... ## ###. ## # ## ####. ##...#."

You frown, and twist your head back into the shadow of the leaves, conflicted. "Why are you just talking..." You grumble, hesitantly.

It hums, and begins to make it's way towards you. You poke your head out of the bush, and stare up at him. You make a guess that it is male, because of his deep voice and general young featured masculinity. You have never seen one of these creatures so close, or so calm.

A grouping of leafs rub against your cheek and part of your forehead, and one tickles against the back of one of your horns. You twitch in annoyance, and then attempt to blow them away through the side of your mouth. You growl lowly, and decide to move further out of the cover of the shrubbery. The humans eyes perk, and his head tilts to the side.

"#," he says, and takes another step in your direction.

You jump up, and immediately ready yourself for an attack. You bare your teeth at him for good measure. He stops moving when you do this, and a pause drags out before he speaks again. "## ###... ### ##..." The sounds he makes aren't solid, as if his lips are trembling. You eye him carefully as he slowly brings his free hand up to point at himself, and then say, "## ##."

You growl at the sounds, and wonder if perhaps he is trying to distract you. You look around, but fail to spot any others of his kind, or anything else for that matter. You note that there are chirpbeasts making noise above you. You bring your glare back to the blue eyed male, and wait for him to act.

"## ##," he says, and it sounds similar to the thing he said before.

He must be telling you his name, as he is point at himself while he repeats his words. You test the sounds out, but realise they are awfully similar to another alien name you heard recently. "Jene? Jane? John?" He perks at that last one, so you suppose that was right, enough. "Fuck you, John I shouldn't hesitate to kill you!"

You see him jump away at the sharpness of your words, and his hand goes back to his side. "## # ### #, # ## #... # ### ### #..."

A hum burns in your throat, and you take a glance at his teeth as he opens his mouth to sigh. He has a large set of flat teeth, which comes across as strange to you. They a pathetic in comparison to even yours. He shakes the crossbow in his hand, and you stiffen. You slump with surprise as the weapon hits the grass with a slight thud and a rattle. John shrugs, and cocks a brow in disbelief.

"Why?" You help but blurt out.

He smiles, and shrugs again. "# ##. ## ### ## # ### ###, ## #... ### ## ## # ## ##? ## ## ### # ## # # ## #... ## ## # # ## # ## # ## #?"

Your brows furrow tighter the more he talks. You don't know exactly what he's saying, all you know is he is acting more and more defective as a living, intellectual organism; you wonder how the hell he has survived when he appears to be so painfully stupid. You walk around him, and stare him down. You doesn't turn his back to you, so perhaps he isn't completed brain damaged.

"#... ## ## # ##..." His voice clearly shakes, and you hear him try to cover it with a cough. You hum to yourself as you realise you are the one in control here, not him. "Scared?..." You take a moment to recall his name, "John?"

He nods in reply, and takes a bite at his own lip. You are this boss, it's you.

"Grubfucker," you spit to him, and carry on around him.

"Uh, ##?"

You pause in your stride, and start going closer to him. You understood him that time, again. You stop again, and feel that you are safe enough to hide your still shaking hands in your pockets. "I don't think I fucking understand what the fuck this is. or why exactly this is, but," you inhale, and then exhale, "my name is Karkat."

Yon only blinks at you, like the dumbdumb he has been since the moment you locked eyes with him.

You groan, and try to speak more clearly. "Kaaarrrkaat." You feel fucking retarded.

He makes a puzzled expression, or rather, the most expressive look of idiocy you have ever witnessed.

"Huh? Kar kit?" You bite your gum. "## ## ## ## ####?"

Your growing rage burns through and out of your nostrils, before you speak once, "Joooohn... Karrkaat."

His face glows when you stop talking, and a wide smile spreads below his nose. A bobbing head tells you he heard you properly, and by fuck if he gets it wrong another time, you're leaving. "Ohhhhhhhh! ## ## # Karkat! ## John," he points to himself, and then you, "## ## Karkat!"

What the fuck is wrong with him, is all you can think as you stare at his ecstatic composure.

"Karkat, Karkat, Karkat," he reiterates.

"Shut up," you shortly order.

He makes a face like a quackbeast, and tilts his head. "## ## ### ## # # ## ## #### #####? ## #### ##### ###### # #."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You verbalise.

He looks in both directions, and then down to his feet. "# ### # #### #? # ##, ## ## # ###, ##, ## #### # # #### ## ####..."

You are uncertain of how you are supposed to react. You think you should kill him, but, you don't think you could stomach that. You would question what the fuck is wrong with you, but, that's a long story.

He nibbles at his bottom lip, before talking again, "yor proleh fing king theh se# ### i am. i ##. i# ### ## # ## ###, ## # ### #### ### ##. yew ## ### ###, ##- oh? ## ## theh ## ## yew? ## ## ######, i ## ## ## ### human yewv seen, huh?"

"I don't get what you're saying, fuckass." You can recognise some sounds, but they are still meaningless to you.

A laugh escapes him, "# ## ## # # ## # ## ## #... ahnt i woht," he lifts his hands to shakes them, "hoepfoolly... yew ## ## # kil mee?"

You can barely contain your frustrations, however many they are. "What the actual fuck?"

"Karkat," he says, in attempt to calm you down.

You look down, and sigh. You don't want to start something violent, not after the bullshit you've just been through the past... All of your life. "Yes, asshole."

He hums for a while at you, before speaking, "## ## ##?"

You still don't understand.

"Uhh... Okeh?" He says with care, " Or... Hurrt?" He makes that weird smile again at you. "Okeeeh," his smile extends, but then it reversing down to mirror it's previous position, "huhrt? Karkat?" He pinches his arm.

You take a while to process what he was saying. It's clear he is asking you a question, as he waits for you to respond. He was trying to associate 'okeh' with smiling; happiness, and 'huhrt' with sadness, displeasure, or pain. Was he asking if you were injured? In pain? "O-okeh?" you try to say.

He nods, and then shakes his head, "nawt huhrt?"

You shake your head immediately, and watch the smile return to his face. It throws you off guard to see someone acting so... Non-hostile.

He nods as he proceeds making noise, "##. # ## # ### ## ###, #..." He gestures with his hand behind him. "## ## ## #### # ## # # ##, # #? ## ## ### ## #### ###, ## ## # ## # #### # ### ##. # ## ##, ## # ## ##. ## #### ## ### ##, ##### ### ##. # #### ## ## #### ##. ## ### #, ### #### ## ### ## ###. ## ## ###, ## # ### ####, ### ### ##-"

He shuts up when you lift your hand to make a stopping sign. You honestly don't know why you haven't at least hit this guy yet. Holy shit, it likes to talk. So do you, but, fuck. After a moment of him gawking between your hands and face, he starts sniggering, "sawree..."

You purse your lips in thought of the word. It means just a little to you than the rest of his verbal anomalies, but you struggle to understand why he said a word this time, and just one word. "... Srreh?" You attempt to mimic the sounds, and take a step closer to hear him better. It's about the quality of the words; not the quantity, at least when it comes to language barriers and culture sensitivity.

He rubs the back of his neck with his palm. "ihts sorreh, laik... Soreh I et theh lahst mushroom. Ohr, sorreh I brrowd yur shrt. One... Shiht! Soreh I lawst yur guhn!"

You don't know why, but his acting makes you smile, for the first time in what feel like forever. "Sorreh? What kind of freak ass dangle bulge word vomit is spouting from your weird pinkish lips? Sorreh, a word, a phrase? What the actual shit flipping fuck is wrong with you, John? What kind of seemingly intelligent lifeform would come forth to question a particularly dangerous creature if it is _okeh_ or _huhrt,_ idiot? Nobody does that by the way, nobody. Understand that? Nobody ever ever ever ever EVER does that. Unless, holy collateral shit, your not coming on to me are you... No. Just... No. What the hell am I thinking? You don't get that kind of stuff! You can't even understand words, well, my words, which are greatly superior to yours. You can't understand this shit, right?"

His lack of response speaks for itself, thankfully.

"Well, good."

"Ha."

Your brows raises, but for once you don't care how confused you are - you actually do care - and you might as well humour this guy. "Ha, fucking, ha."

"Hahaha ha ha ha, haha," a stupid look returns to his face.

"Shut up," you order, but all he does is let out a generous burst of laughter, before answering you, "yur ### ## # ##, Karkat!"

You groan at him, because what else can you do? Other than leave, that is, or hit him, or shout some more, you've become pretty good at that.

"Soh Yu w## ## # ##?" He seems to be inquiring something with a notable amount of enthusiasm, "## yu ## ## w# bak ##? Yu ## ##, # # ### # ## # ##### ## # ## ## ## ### ## ### yu. ## ### ## ## ## #, ## ### ## # ## ##### ## ## #### ## ### # ## # ## ######."

You blink in response, and his face changes it's expression to realisation.

"Uh... Ryte..." He looks about your surroundings, and then drops to the ground. You stare at him as he drawings faces in the dirt, and presumably talks to himself. "## # ## ## # ##?"

You almost don't catch the last part, but then you realise he was finally directing his speech at you again. It doesn't take you long to approach, but you don't get much closer than that, not until his empty hands lift up from his body. "## ## ### # ## #, Karkat, ###." He motions for you to proceed, and to your own surprise, you comply. Your knees click when you crouch down, and it makes your nose wrinkle. "What's this?" You ask through your teeth.

When you look back up from the markings in the dirt, you see he is staring at you. Not just you, but your eyes. You could head butted that gawking face right now; you're close enough. He must sense your frustrations, as he loses interest in your eyes and returns to the earth to paw out more doodles. He taps a complete hive, and says, "##."

Unremarkably, you don't know what he said. You are certain, however, that he is mentioning a hive.

"Hom," he says.

"Homn?" It feels strange to speak a foreign word, you wouldn't exaggerate and call it terrible though.

"Ho-m," he repeats in a steady voice.

You take a breath, and say it back to him, "ho-m."

His face twists unpleasantly, and half his teeth become visible. "Ehh... Goohd enuff... Naow wawch!" He taps once more at the earth, and your eyes follow his finger as he draws out what appears to be several little stick figure persons... He taps one of them and looks back up at you, speaking through a grin, he says, "John, thahts mee!"

You give a nod, and he continues. "Ths s Dayv. Dayv," he taps a second figure as he repeats the word.

A low rumble works it's way up your throat, and you make an attempt to repeat what you assume is a name. "Def." You are certain you got that wrong. Fuck it.

John smiles reassuringly, "Ye, hees mye bes buddey. Ahnd ths s Jayd. Shee ahnd Dev haf bean dayting fawr years. Jayd."

You think you get it, emphasis on _think._ You raise your hands and make a heart sign, to which John jumps at, likely expecting you to shiv him or something. "Def and Yehd are like matesprits then?"

He seems taken aback by your guess, and nods, "Ye! Ecsactly!"

Well, there's one mystery solved.

"Okeh... Lahst s Rows. Rows," he taps the final figure.

"Roz," you say with ease.

"Uhuh, thts raight. Whel, its clowse enuff," he moves his left hand over the figures and hive. "Home," he says, "home, Jon, Dayv, Jayd ahn Rows. Home."

You nod again to show him you get it (and to shut him up). "I get it already."

He hums, and wipes the figures back into meaningless dirt. Then he draws a new figure, this time it has horns, similar to yours, for some reason. "yu, Karkat, okeh?"

You are positive that you have established your wellbeing to this creature. Has he forgotten already?

"Home?" He questions carefully.

You have no idea what he is attempting to communicate. He has officially lost you. "John... Hom?"

He slaps his hand against his head and lets out a small laugh, "noh, noh... Nawt mye home. Yur home, Karkat!" He scratches out a circle which envelopes the horned stick figure, and he hits his finger against it, "Karkat's home?"

Oh. This just became uncomfortable. Worse than talking to a thing that keeps trying to kill you after you were just chased by one of said creatures and watched one of the only people you know get shot and dragged away through the dirt of the forest. Uncomfortable. You shake your head, and hope he leaves it at that.

He doesn't. "Yu dohnt wawna tehl mee, huh? Ihs nawt lyke aym gawna cuhm ovehr wif n arme nd doo sum seet ninja shiht r wotvr... Aye jst wahnt t mayk shure yul mayk iht bak sayf."

His words are lost on you, again. What you gather is that he is persistent in finding out more about you. You bite your gums as you try to find the right response. Sighing, you answer, "I don't have that."

He seems confused by your answer, which was understandable, but what the hell was he expecting? You groan, sliding a hand down your face to try and calculate a more reasonable answer. "Uhh... Hom..." You shake your head, and cross out the hive he drew before, "it's just me, on my own."

"Kno home?" He questions, and you reply simply, "Karkat."

"Sht, thn... ... beefor?" He continues to make remarks and gestures which baffle you, even to the point of insinuating that you and Vriska were together romantically. The thought, unsurprisingly, disgusts you. More than anything, you are astonished by the seeming kindness of the light skinned creature. He smiles, he talks, he laughs, he's even nervous being with you, but not in a threatening sense. You haven't come across someone like him in sweeps. You're taken aback, especially when he appears to offer you food, which just weirds you out.

When he moves for his weapon again, you feel this new sense of ease slip into betrayal. You prepare to fight, but again, he manages to calm the situation down and convince you that he is still not a threat. You don't know why you end up letting him follow you. Well, that was a lie; you do in fact know why. You like him, and you like his strange company.


	3. Chapter 3

You've gotten used to being on your feet for long periods of time, it's not really something that bothers you much anymore, however, in the dark, and in the middle of the forest, you might as well be hiking through the fourth circle of hell. You have lost count on the number of times you've misplaced your footing on the impossibly unreliable terrain. Despite the suffering you have been undergoing for the past hour and a half, your grey skinned companion appears to be traversing his own level of hell. Between the gauntness of his features, the bags beneath his eyes and his enervated posture, he looks like an animal half-dead, abandoned by its pack. Such an animal is always easy target, if it is caught off guard and struck quick enough, as John had witnessed on several hunts. But even then, all animals on the verge of losing everything are the most dangerous and unpredictable.

The snapping of a twig in the darkness makes you both freeze. The sun has long since set, and you are completely relying on Karkat knowing where to go and if there is something else around. He glances about, head zipping from side to side as he appears to sniff at the air, like a fox or even a racoon trying to understand the nature of its surroundings. You try to sniff, but naturally, all you smell is the dampness of the forest around you. There is still the noises of a lively forest; crickets, the hooting of owls, the leaves blowing gently above you, so it can't be too terrible. Karkat snarls, and kicks up some dirt towards some bushes, and something seems to scamper off. You look between the bush and the troll with a frown, and he stares at you, eyes narrowed and fangs biting into his lower lip. "##?" He asks sharply while he hunches his shoulders. You blink at him, and answer with a shrug.

He spits out more words that you fail to really hear or be able to understand, while he walks off towards an unknown destination. You start after him when a blood-curdling snarl rips out from the bushes accompanied by the pouncing of a large, white, winged creature. Karkat lets out a scream, and falls back into the dirt as the creature tries to grasp his throat in it's jaws, which he manages to block with his arm. He's bleeding now, you can see the red contrasting with the white maw of the beast. You can't move your legs to run or to help. You have never seen anything like this before, the scales, the teeth, the wings, the size; it was as big as a horse, but built like a lion. "Hey!" You finally yell, and raise your crossbow. You havent even placed a bolt into it, but you are acting on instinct, and despite the terror flooding over you, all you see is someone who needs help or they will surely be killed.

Your weapon is knocked out of your hands as someone jumps down from the trees above you. You yelp, grasping your hands to shield them from the pain you experienced when your crossbow was practically ripped away. Another troll stands before you, slim and lean in build, and eyes that were nothing less than the brightest red. She points what appears to be a cane at you, with a blade attached. She taps it up against your chin, forcing you to expose your bare throat to her. She sneers at you, practically hissing, "## # # ### ##." You flinch at the sinister sounds she produces, which only seems to encourage her laughter. This is the kind of monster you expected when you thought of a troll; an insane, merciless, sadistic beast. She turns sharply on her heel, lowering her weapon as she paces over to Karkat almost playfully. You stand there, you don't know what to do, it is as simple as that. Maybe she'll kill him, maybe she'll kill you, you have no idea, all you know is that you are powerless to stop whatever comes next.

She stands over him, and the white beast backs off, flicking its tail and flattening its wings. You can hear Karkat groaning and whimpering, sounding so defenseless, so scared, able to do nothing but clutch his bloody arm in agony. She speaks to him, almost harshly, but he doesn't answer, only rolls over and curls himself into the fetal position. Your lips part and you find yourself letting out weak little noises along with him, nearly in tears at the sight of something so helpless and terrified. "Stop it," you call over, knowing she probably doesn't understand. She turns to glance at you, but otherwise ignores you. "Stop it," you say louder, and take a step closer. Her dragon - as you are willing to call it - steps between you and glares you down with eyes every bit at red and intimidating as the troll accompanying it, who turns her attention back you you. She begin speaking, when Karkat moves, pulling her ankles so her body falls to the ground.

He is on top of heron moments, straddling her hips, forcing his bleeding arm against her throat while his free hand pins her weapon wielding arm to the ground. She stares up at him silently for a moment, before letting go of her cane, and pushes him until he is the one on his back. You stare at them, confused, as they continue to toss around in the dirt like a pair of animals. It would be fair to say that you are even more worried, and every bit as confused as before. The dragon still watches you, paying little attention to the display that you are fourty percent sure is some weird troll mating ritual or something. She ends the scuffle by topping him, pinning his hands above his head, which causes him to snarl fiercely at her.

She crawls off of him and reaches over for her cane blindly, taking several pats to grasp the hilt. Karkat pulls himself up into a sitting position, and mumbles out some barbed sounding words, but does nothing more. She crouches closer and runs her hand down his clothed chest, letting her fingertips rest against his belly. You don't claim to be educated on the matters of psychology like your friend Rose, but the way she touches him is far too sensual and familiar in your opinion. You are now at least sixty-eight percent sure that you are witnessing some troll mating ritual. You don't really want to stay to discover if you are correct in your hypothesis.

Before you can fully decide what to do, Karkat throws the girl off of him with a terrifying hiss. It's the first time you have seen her back off with real fear, and it concerns you. They seem to be in discussion, maybe debate, for several long minutes, before the female troll turns her attention back to you with an accusing point of her cane. You flinch as the blade points in your direction, but as neither she nor her dragon openly attacks you, you do nothing more than stand and watch. Karkat says your name in the midst of other sounds directed at the female, before he gestures for you to come closer. 

You inch over to them, keeping vigil of the dragon as it moves to let you pass. The female troll stands with a playful jump, and leans both hands into her cane in front of her, almost lazily. She grins at you with a wide row of even fangs, similar to Karkat's but more well kept and straight. She licks her lips and says something, as Karkat stands and looks between you both. "# # John, # ## ##." You nod, assuming that he is introducing you. You frown at her, unsure of how to view her, given that she attacked you and Karkat. You can still hear him hissing and groaning from his injuries, and when you glance towards him, you see him trying to hide it. 

The female troll speaks, and when you don't respond, she scowls. She repeats the word again. You bite your lip, and try to focus on the sound she made, but she doesn't say it again, but goes on to grab your backpack and rip it off of your shoulders. You do nothing but look at Karkat as she rummages through your belongings, picking them out and sniffing them. Before anything else could be done, she says something more, and the dragon approaches, biting into the cloth of your shoulder before swinging you around to hit into it's back. You would have fallen into the dirt on your ass if you didn't climb up to straddle the pale and musclular back of the dragon, who even nudges your feet to assist. You look between your troll acquantances and the dragon, panting as if excerted. "Okay, what-"

Before you can finish, the beast beneath you stretches out it's bat-like wings and releases a high pitched screech of a roar. You scream, and clamp down onto the creature, pressing yourself into it's back and hold on for dear life. The beast huffs, and you can feel it under you, along with the stretching of it's ribcage as it breathes in and out. Once you stop panicking, you swear you can even hear it's heart beating. You pull yourself back up into a sitting position, and try to make yourself a bit more comfortable now that it's apparent it doesn't want to kill you, yet. You even stroke it's leathery neck experimentally and are surprised when it raises it's head to trill. It begins to move, walking away from the two trolls. You call back with a stuttering voice, unable to get off as the dragon raises it's wings and starts to trot. You bite your lip, and try to focus on holding on once you realise the trolls have no intent of stopping this.

You make an attempt to navigate the forest as you are stuck on top of what is basically a dragon, which, you will of course brag about if you survive to tell anyone willing to hear. Horses are great, vehicles too if you can get them working long enough to justify the amount of fuel they take, but a mother fucking dragon, you think you can probably die happy after the evening you've had. You hope you survive this. "Where are you taking me? What's going on?" You ask, for the hundreth time on your long journey. Your thighs are rubbed raw and numb, and your crotch feels like it's being held inches above a lake of lava, as much as riding a dragon is majestic and cool, you hate the way your lower body feels currently.

When the dragon finally comes to a halt, and lowers it's wings, you refuse to get off. Even when it growls menacingly back at you, and tries to flip you off of it's back, you tighten your hold. You are at the walls of your camp. You can hear the horses and machinery, and you can hear the nightshift guards going about their rounds. Just as you feel like your unable to breathe, the dragon rears up onto it's hind legs and shakes it's wings until you fall back onto the rough ground, and are hit with it's swiping tail.

"No no no no! You can't just dump me here!" You look around, nearly cracking your neck and getting whiplash. The dragon roars, letting up a splash of fire into the air. You crawl back, and watch as it flaps it's wings and takes off with a slow and heavy pounce into the starry skies. It screams as it  leaves, ascending beautifully over the treeline. You watch it in awe until you are alone, with the sound of guards yelling, and torches being lit near the entrance, you stand.

The gates open and you hear your name.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thanks for your patience! here's the next chapter :)

You don’t understand. The gates open for no one, not in all of the years since English took command of the encampment have they opened for anyone after dark. You doubt they would even open them for his own children, were that situation to arise. So why you? Why, of all people, would they open them for you? You aren’t important. You’re no one, a nobody, an average joe, if anything; another mouth to feed. Who would try to save your life, and disobey a command from your leader? You squint at the gates, and adjust your glasses. Ahead, you see a small coordinated team of armed guards operating in a tight defensive unit with their guns drawn to their shoulders. You see Jade running towards you, waving her free arm fervently. She calls your name with excitement, breaking away from the group without any care for her own safety.

You have never felt such relief; it hits you in waves, filling you like a cold drink in the scorching desert. “ _Jade_!” You call in a gasp, pushing yourself off the dirt as her body smashes against yours. You would have fallen back down again, but she catches you in a near bone-crushing hug, forcing you to wheeze as you struggle for breath, let alone try and return the gesture.

"John, where have you been?! We were so worried, we thought you were dead! Oh my God, you’re alive, you're - you’re alive.” You cough roughly, trying to assure her that you are in fact alive, and not seriously harmed. You appreciate her concern, but she is the most likely thing to kill you tonight.

"Back inside, the blasted thing is gone!" You hear an thickly British-accented man's voice from the team of guards. "You two, inside, now. We can deal with this situation once those gates are closed behind us." The man speaks in an urgent and rather  authoritative manner. Jade pulls you by the arm back to the gates with the guards, not caring that you trip on the rough terrain more than once. She doesn’t let you go until the gates are closed and bolted shut. You can’t help but stare at them, eyes wide in disbelief. You’re alive, you’re home, you’re safe, you have gone and done the unthinkable. You met death, shared afternoon tea, and returned unscathed from the encounter. You can scarcely believe it.

“Alright, chap,” a voice draws your attention back to reality. It’s the man from before; tall, caramel skin, glasses, dark hair. You recognise him; he’s English' eldest son; Jacob, or Jake, as most people call him. From what you’ve heard of him, he isn’t as harsh or disciplinary as his father, perhaps a little naive, but by no means a fool. He approaches, and Jade stands between you. A pair of guards stand behind him, ready and waiting for his command. ”Come now, Harley, I’m only doing my job. Stand down.” He may have given your friend an order, but she holds her ground as though she never even heard it. Jade’s always had the balls to stick up for you, like an older sister would; that idea would probably make her laugh.

Jake English sighs, and turns his attention back to you. “I understand that you were outside the camp after curfew?” He asks calmly, with his hands by his sides and his gun holstered at his hip.

You look between Jade and Jake, the two seem to be exchanging eye contact, sizing each other up. “Yeah,” you answer with a nod. You wish you could say you understand the trouble you’re in, but in truth, you do not. This situation has never arisen before, and you’re sure the others are just as ignorant of what to do.

Jake hums, taking glances between you and the guards behind him, “I hope you realize, you’re one _lucky_ son of a gun. Harley here practically held me at gunpoint to open those bloody gates for you... We'll keep that hush hush for now, but we'll discuss that later, Jade."

She did _what_ now? Holy shit, Jade.

"You _are_ from here, correct?” The young English asks.

You don't quite know where your brain is for a minute. You're still trying to imagine the scene of Jade _threatening with lethal force_ the son of your leader - and the second-in-command of your camps' small military force. Just... Holy fuck. You nod again once you process the question, “of course I am! I’ve lived here all my life, sir.”

You watch as Jake scratches at the stubble on his jaw, “well, as you might imagine, I don’t know the procedure for this, but I don’t think my father would be overly pleased if I just let you go. I’m afraid you’ll have to be detained until we know how to deal with you.”

The guards don’t need to be told to come and force your hands behind your back, clipping them into plastic cuffs.

You don’t bother kicking up a fuss about it other than a startled word of complaint, there’s no point. Jade, on the other hand, she is practically screaming at them. “Let him go! He’s not some common criminal! He’s never done anything wrong in his life!” You adore Jade, especially since she was the one that got you back on this side of the wall, but, there is nothing she could realistically do or say that could make them let you go.

“I’m dreadfully sorry, Harley, but it has to be done. I’ll see what I can do to make a good case for the poor bloke,” Jake tries to reason with her. You know they’ve worked together many times in the past, being two of the best shots in the camp, but, you’re surprised by their almost informal way of communicating. You're certain he doesn't speak like this with anyone else, although, you don't actually know Jacob too well. However, you do know that Jade would never be this defiant towards his father. Ultimately, you can see where he is coming from, and you are honestly just relieved that you’re home again. 

“Sir, that _thing_ is being held in one of the cells, are you sure it'd be right to keep someone in the same area as it?” One of your guards mentions almost offhandedly to Jake.

He considers this with tight lips for a moment before giving a shrug. “They aren’t being kept in the same cell, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Besides, Scratch said it’ll be out of it for a while.”

’ _It_ ’?

”If you’re sure, sir,” the guard concludes his affirmation, and proceeds to take you off, pulling you by the arm, with the other guard for backup. Jade, being under English authority, can do nothing more than watch you in defeat as you’re taken away.

On your way to the holding cells - a converted and extended garage - you are stared at by the people of your settlement through their cracked windows. You hear them whispering, debating the nature of your crime. You recognise a few of them from your strolls around town, but you wouldn’t really consider any of them closer than brief acquaintances. You are kind of an attraction to them, you realize; a spectacle to behold for the curious and the cautious, and you don’t quite know how you feel about that. You do your best to avoid looking back at them.

The cells are cold and dark, The only sources of light come from the opening of the elevating door at the front that allows light from outside to creep in, and a little window near the back of the room that's close to the roof where some moonlight sneaks in from. You’ve never actually seen where they keep criminals, and you've never really thought about it; you were a bit of a prankster as a child, but never have you done something worth being arrested. Plus your father always had a way of keeping you out of harm’s way when you screwed up; an apology here, a favour there...

Your eyes strain to find the ‘it’ that is being kept in this dark place. All you can see are the several large, empty cages within your short field of view. All except one of them, that appeared to hold someone who looks to be lying limp on the ground. The person is lying like a bag of sand, turned away from view.

You aren’t given much opportunity to have a closer look; the guards lead you to the furthest away cage and push you inside. You nearly fall to your knees, but catch yourself as you hear them lock the gate behind you. They stop to look at the other prisoner, quietly whispering to one another, holding their heads and yawning as they talk, before leaving, closing the metal door to the garage so that there was only darkness. You lick your lips, and try to get your eyes to adjust to the blackness, which proves to be an unfruitful task; there are no lamps or torches or electric lights to help you. Despite being in the safety of your camp, this place make you feel just as alone and vulnerable as you did out in the woods.

”##...” A voice groans from across the room, before the sound of movement, then a sharp, feminine hiss of pain.

You drop to the cold concrete floor, and grab at the blanket that is lying nearby, pulling it over your shoulders to find some sort of warmth or comfort. You know now what the guards meant by ‘it’. “Hey, you’re that troll girl from before, aren’t you?” You ask with a smile. “I thought you were done f-“

You falter as you see a single bright yellow eye glaring at you through the darkness like a cat. She doesn’t snarl or snap at you like Karkat did, she just stares in silence. You don’t understand why, but the longer the silence goes on, the more you feel like you’re developing a headache. You hold your head in your hands and let out a groan, have you hit your head? You don’t remember.

Suddenly, the pain stops, as though it was never even there. “W-What?”

”# # # # # ######## ## # # ##...” The girl says from across the room with the sound of a grin and, was that _sass_? Wait-

“Did you- Do you- No way!” You gasp, staring at her in bewilderment. “You have psycho-powers, don’t you?!”

”#?”

”That is so awesome, I mean, it’s terrifying that you guys could like, zap us through our brains and stuff, but it’s pretty awesome,” you beam, smile stretching from ear to ear. Realistically, you should be worried about being so close to yet another troll - who you're pretty sure has mind powers, no less - but being separated by a pair of cages from someone who you can only imagine is badly injured dissolves any fear you have.

The girl gives out a little chuckle, not quite as loose as a cackle, but certainly one of amusement. In return, you offer your own light laugh. “# ## # # # # ## #!” She coughs wetly.

You stop your laugh and frown over at her. By her cough, she isn’t doing as good as she’s trying to seem. “My name’s John, by the way,” you introduce yourself quietly, pointing at yourself. If it worked once before, it could work again, “John.”

”# ## # # ## # # #,” she scoffs, “# ## ## # ## ### # ### # # ## # #.”

Like with Karkat, you have no idea what she’s saying, but you get the jist of her tone, more of that sass she seems to like to brandish. “I met that guy you were with; Karkat.”

That appears to strike a chord with her, as her eye locks onto you analytically. “# # # #?”

You pull the blanket tighter around you, “Karkat, yeah. He said you guys aren’t friends, but I assume you know each other, since you guys were together, and from what I’ve seen, which may be limited to, like, three trolls in my entire life, you guys aren’t the best at the whole social thing.”

”#. # Karkat.” She says, as if in disbelief.

”Yeah, ugh...” You cough theatrically, and attempt to mimic that pained, raspy voice, “ _oh, my name’s Karkat and I like to shout a lot, har har har!"_

She erupts into laughter, slamming her hand against the bars of her cage. “# ### ## #####!”

You cover your mouth and look away, failing to hold in your laughter. You like this troll girl; she seems pretty nice, and she sure is easy to talk to! You must be the troll whisperer or something, because so far you've gotten along great with the creatures that you’ve lived in fear of your whole life.

Her laughter dies down, taken over by rough coughing and pained noises that lasts more than a few laborous minutes. You look over at her in concern, “you don’t sound too good...”

She seems to snarl after you speak; a high pitched noise full of teeth and venom, enough to make you pull away from the bars of your cage. “# # # ## ####. # ## # ## ## # #, #- #- # ## # #” She doesn’t say another word to you after that, only turns away and lies back down, leaving you with nothing but confusion.

”... I’m sorry,” is all you can think to say, before lying back against the bars of your cage and gradually falling asleep.

You're sleep is broken and messy, you mumble and groan and wake more times than you can recollect. You see the doe in the woods when you close your eyes, and see her staring at you, so impossibly close, before you shoot her down, with the fawn nuzzling at her expectantly, unaware of the stillness of her bloodied body that would let anyone know that her life has come to an abrupt end. You stare down at your hands, feeling something slick slide past your fingers and drip onto your scuffed boots. _Drip. Drip. Drip._ The liquid in your hands is... Blue, but holds all the texture of blood, or what your brain is telling you is blood. You stare up with wide eyes at the dead doe and her orphaned fawn. The fawn has begun chewing down into its' mother, tearing up the blue tinted flesh and gulping it down like a dog. When it looks up, it stares at you with piercing white eyes that seem to glow in the darkness of the cobweb-coated woodland.

You wake up with a sharp and painful gasp, struggling for air as sweat coats you better than any blanket. You struggle to regain your composure for a few minutes, holding your sticky head before yanking your hands away to search them for any trace of blood. You know immediately how irrational it is, but you haven't had a nightmare that vivid in a long time, not since you're father was killed.

You look about the room, remembering what had happened the previous day. You remember heading off on your own, the pair of deer, you remember meeting Karkat, and coming home, and now being held prisoner with a lady troll. Your eyes adjust to the newfound light and the minor heat to the garage. There is sunlight coming inside through the small glass window near the roof. Across from you, you see the troll girl, and unlike before, where she was lying down and weakened, she now stands, shouting out for anyone to hear. She must notice you staring, because she stops her ravings to look back at you, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "#, # ## ###."

Your lips part as you glance at her eyes, or rather, her one eye. Her right eye is bright and yellow and blue and shadowed by thick black lashes, but the left appears damaged, as if it isn't even there anymore. Her face looks rough, too; scraped and scarred, particularly on the left side. Her full, black lips look dry and slightly marked by a cut. Her long black hair looks almost as bad as yours does, and her clothes are no better. Her left arm, you see, like her left eye is also missing. You're pretty sure that when you first saw her running through the woods that she had all of her limbs, as far as you could tell past the blood and panic. You blink, and look away purposefully. You can't look at her, not when she's staring back at you like that.

"#? ## ### # ### # ## # # # #?" She scoffs, and leans confidently against the bars with her 'good side', folding one of her legs behind the other where she stands. "#!" She sounds as if she curses, and shakes her left shoulder, moving herself so that you can no longer see her non-existing arm. This makes you turn your face back to her with a frown.

"You... If you're hurt, that's okay. Well, I mean, it's not okay, but like..." You push your glasses back up since they've slid down your nose and become annoying. "I dunno. I just, I know already that you're hurt. And I... Ah, fuck it, you have no idea what I'm saying anyway." You rub at the back of your head.

You hear a muffled voice come from outside, one masculine and then another, far more feminine. You squint as the doors open upward, revealing a new pair of guards standing watch on either side of the opening. There are also another pair of figures, one tall man in a pale, well groomed suit, and the other was a short young girl wearing a simple floral dress with... A red bowtie tied around her neck rather neatly, as if she were wearing a suit. You recognise both of them as they enter, anyone in camp would. Doctor Scratch (if that even was his real name); English' advisor and the resident doctor, and Calliope; Jake and Caliborn's sister and the only daughter of 'Lord' English. Calliope herself seems to be bright eyed and more than a little inquisitive as she takes a few steps into the room, carrying a large briefcase in front of her with both hands. The doctor walks up to the troll girl's area of containment with his hands hooked behind his back and his balding head held high.

"I see you're awake now, my dear," his voice sounds similar to the stroking of silk.

The troll snaps a couple of bitter sounding words at him as she pulls away from the bars, standing nearly as tall as he does, and with every ounce of dominance, the only difference in their attitudes is that Dr. Scratch is calm and collected, while the troll girl seems more defensive and emotionally compromised. 

"I'm afraid your little mind tricks don't work too well on us humans. While it would be important to note that some people appear more vulnerable than others. You really did cause quite a stir with the guards," he chuckles lightly, as if he made an joke only he understood. "How fascinating it would be to see how it effect others of your kind, don't you think so, young Miss Calliope?"

Calliope looks at you first, more confused than anything else, and then back to Dr. Scratch. "Yes, I believe it would be rather intriguing to see any sort of troll interacting with the other in whatever kind of conditions and variables. Psychic abilities present or otherwise."

Calliope is a fragile looking girl compared to anyone you've seen around camp, which is ironic considering her family and status. She shares the similar English facial structure; strong cheekbones and tan skin. The main difference between her and the rest of her family, besides her being the only female, is that she's nearly skeletal in form, wheras the rest have significantly more muscle mass.

"Indeed," Scratch replies, and turns to give you notice. "A little bird told me that you've been outside the walls of our humble little homestead after hours. News travels fast, does it not? No doubt it must have been rather difficult to find your way back with such little light and only a novice understanding of tracking."

You... Feel as though you are being interrogated here, or tested, especially in how intently the man stares down at you with those strange hazel eyes, as though he knows something he very probably shouldn't. You gulp down nothing, and glance between him and the English girl. "I was... Pretty lucky out there." You're not exactly lying.

"I'm sure you were," he scoffs, and turns his head back towards the troll. "You don't appear very afraid of this one. At least not as afraid as one would expect you to be. Especially one with her abilities. Perhaps... Her powers have affected you?" His eyes look back to you questioningly.

"I-" You frown, unsure of what to say. Maybe... Maybe she did use her powers on you? You don't know. How does anyone know if they've been mindfucked by an alien? "I don't really know."

"It's not impossible," Calliope adds, sitting the briefcase down in front of her so she can fold her arms. "We know so little about these people we share this world with. This ones' injuries for example; such a large amount of blood loss and trauma would kill any human, but she is recovering quicker than we could ever have anticipated! It's absolutely remarkable!"

"Injuries that _your brother_ caused," you blurt out sourly without thinking.

"Oh?" Scratch perks up, taking a single step closer to you, while Calliope takes one step back, making sure she doesnt go too close to the trolls' cage. "And how do you know it was Caliborn?"

Fuck.

"Could it be that you were there when these injuries were inflicted?" He said near matter-of-factly.

"No! Well..." You bite your lip, and make to stand, letting the blanket still hanging over you drop to the ground. "Okay, so, yeah, I was kind of in the woods, trying to do my hunter-gatherer stuff before heading back. And then Caliborn turned up out of knowhere chasing after her and-" you hold your tongue for once, realising how complicated this was becoming. Even you understood that the less they knew about your 'adventures' with Karkat - and the other troll girl, and her pet-fucking-dragon - were probably better left out of your story. "-and he tied her up! And then rode off again!"

Calliope looks wounded by what you say, turning away as she bites down on her bottom lip.

"Hmm..." Scratch hums to himself, bringing a finger to his lips as he appears to contemplate your words. "And did you converse with the young English lad? Did you assist him, and did he assist you?"

"I, uh...?"

"Forgive me," he holds his hands up apologetically, "it was rude of me to boggle your mind with so many questions at once. You may answer them one at a time if you wish, and if you need me to repeat myself I can."

You're pretty sure he's mocking you now. “No... That’s fine,” you say through your teeth. “Yeah, we sort of talked, it wasn’t the most friendly conversation in the world but we did chat. I most absolutely did _not_ help him! What he did was really cruel! And like hell did he help me! He just came along, firing shots out everywhere, insulted me a bit and went off again with that troll dragging behind his horse on a fucking rope!”

That shut the doctor up.

”I...” Calliope says solemnly. “I should leave, I need to see my brother.” And just like that, she quickly heads back outside, rushing off into the distance until you no longer see her.

”#. # ## # ### ## #, #######.”

You and Scratch turn to what vaguely sounds something close to sarcasm coming from the troll girl as she leans against the back of her cage almost casually, folding an arm on her chest as if the other was still there.

 "Thank you for this new set of information, young Mr. Egbert, it is much appreciated. I'm sure any further cooperation from you should aid you in your current predicament. Now, then, I will take my leave since my patient seems be making a remarkable recovery, anything I do might break the healing process... Until we meet again," he leans down and picks up the briefcase Calliope left behind, before waving his free hand as he leaves.

The doors close once again and you are both left with nothing but the light that comes down from the little window.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :) There will be more chapters, and there is a storyline planned out. So, I would love to know your thoughts of this fic before things get a bit more intense.  
> Also give some love to CreationSylph who is helping me with this so much! https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreationSylph/pseuds/CreationSylph  
> And some to L_Michelakos (/the lovely tkam) for her awesome work and help https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_Michelakos/pseuds/L_Michelakos
> 
> Tah tah! *waves*


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